


Marigold Ink Marching Band

by Mandy_Shroom, Max_bmcfan



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Marching Band, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Marching Band, Muffins, No Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26610328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandy_Shroom/pseuds/Mandy_Shroom, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Max_bmcfan/pseuds/Max_bmcfan
Summary: This is it, their final year. The last shows, the last competitions.Darryl finally made it, he's a Drum Major now. In charge of everyone, he couldn't be more excited - or nervous! His massive crush on his best friend doesn't really help matters...Zak is section leader now, and he's determined to make this the best year ever for the trumpets. But when he finds out that he's the main soloist, he can't help the anxiety inside.What will come for the Marigold Ink Marching Band? Read on to find out!.Currently being written, this is just a little teaser for you!
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Zak Ahmed & Darryl Noveschosch, Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 50
Kudos: 133





	1. Prologue - The Step-Off Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again! This is my second Skephalo fic now, and can I just say how much I adore these two? Because I do. I really do.
> 
> Anyway, this isn't the prequel to 'sorry about prom', but instead a story that me and my friend have being working on for quite a while now:
> 
> Skeppy and Bad are in marching band together! If you don't know marching band, don't worry, we're working on making this as easy to follow as possible, so no knowledge required to read on. In fact, I hope at the end of this journey with us that you will learn you appreciate the hard work that the marching band does, just as much as we do.
> 
> This work is a tag team between me and my best friend Max, who got me into Skephalo in the first place. Thank them, not me! Their Instagram handle, which will post art for this story, will be in the end note
> 
> (Also yes trumpet players suck but skeppy is a trumpet and you cant change my mind)

"Hello everybody!" Mr. Dahlburg said, his voice echoing in the large auditorium. A cheer went up as he walked on stage, holding the mic. "How's everyone doing?" The cheering got louder, with loud yelling coming from the trumpet section especially. 

"Alright, alright," he said, smiling widely at the crowd, waving his arm downwards. The noise level dropped considerably, much faster than most people would expect from a bunch of teenagers. "Welcome to Marigold Ink Marching Band! If you're a freshman, or a rookie, welcome! And for everyone else, welcome back!"

"Now, who's ready to start this season off right?" A cheer rose dramatically. "Alright! First off, to announce the Drums Majors! Drum roll please!"

Everyone in the audience started patting their knees, causing a loud drum roll effect that echoed louder and louder, faster and faster. Mr. Dahlburg spoke over the thunderous noise.

"Returning for his second year, I'm excited to welcome back…" He paused, waiting for the drum roll to reach its peak. "Will Gold!"

Will Gold, or as everyone else calls him, Wilbur Soot, walked on stage, smiling and waving. He was a very tall boy, standing somewhere above 6', wearing a beanie on top of his brown hair. The crowd broke out into applause, with some of the flutes shouting out words of encouragement towards him. Mr. Dahlburg got them to quiet down, and then started another drum roll.

"And for our second, and final Drum Major, I welcome to the stage…" The drum roll got faster once again, getting louder and louder with each passing second. "Darryl Noveschosch!"

Darryl, or as everyone calls him, Bad, walked nervously on stage, waving slowly. He was shorter than Wilbur, slightly less than a foot. The drum roll broke into loud cheering, especially near the pit area. One specific cheer could be heard coming from the trumpet section, something about 'BadBoyHalo' and a potato?

"Thank you!" Mr. Dahlburg said, smiling at the Drum Majors and patting them both on the shoulder. "You may sit back down now.

"Now, the moment you've all been waiting for," he said, walking to his laptop, and pulling up a privated youtube video. The lights went dim, and a light buzz drew over the crowd, as Mr. Dahlburq hit play.

The video started, a black screen. Slowly, a trumpet solo started, getting louder and louder, and suddenly golden clouds burst onto the screen, making some of the woodwinds gasp loudly. The clouds swirled around, a fantastical dance, and the trumpet solo got louder and prouder. It was joined with other brass, crashing together. And then, a high pitched flute cut through the brass, and clouds parted at the same time. They revealed a human figure, reaching out towards the auditorium, a flag loose in their grip. The brass dropped away, and the flute slowly edged away as the screen turned black. Large, elegant golden text took over next:  _ From Love, to Humanity. _ The video ended.

The auditorium was still for a moment, just a brief second, before exploding in cheers and applause and shouts. The lights turned back on, as Mr. Dahlburg snapped his laptop shut and walked back to center stage.

"And that's our show! We have quite the season planned, so just you wait!" More applause, with some obnoxious whistles from the tubas. "Now! I'm afraid that's the end of the Step-Off meeting! We shall see you on Saturday, for Mini Camp, and then the summer is yours! Well, until mid-July. See you soon!"

The crowd cheered again, before slowly dispersing and leaving the auditorium, the air simply buzzing with excitement.


	2. Chapter 1 - Mini Camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Mini Camp! The introduction to Marching Band, to let the rookies and freshies know how it works.
> 
> Zak gets to meet some of his new freshman, lose in a dance-off - "it was a tie, Bad!" - and make fun of Darryl all in one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!! welcome back!! I know its been a little bit, but I hope y'all enjoy it!! Its even a bit longer than usual, lol

Zak pulled up to the school, parking neatly in between the front doors and the marching band lot. Darryl bounced excitedly next to him, rambling on nervously.

“This is it, Skeppy! We’re seniors now! Oh my goodness!” He exclaimed, waiting until Zak put the car into park before quickly unbuckling his seat belt. “Our last year! We gotta make this count Skeppy, we have to make MIMB proud!”

“Bad, trust me,” Zak said, turning off the engine and twisting in his seat to face his best friend fully. “You already have. And the new freshmen are going to love you. Now, let’s get in there!” Darryl grinned back at him, and together they hopped out of the car, Darryl waiting politely while Zak grabbed his trumpet from the backseat.

The school was empty, like usual, so the two simply walked straight to the band room, where they split off to do their separate duties; Zak, to the slot room to set his trumpet down for the time being, and Darryl to the Band Director’s office, to do whatever the hell Drum Majors do. Zak wouldn’t really know, but he trusts Bad to do what he needs. He loitered around, checking his phone occasionally, waiting for his friend to finish. This is why they had come early, after all, because Bad needed to be. When Bad had said that, Zak was already thinking of when he would need to leave his own house, to make sure he got Bad to the school when he needed to be there.

Zak wandered into the band room, looking around the empty room. No chairs were out, and all the music stands were clustered in the corner, probably waiting for the drum majors to put them out. On the large white board in the front of the room was a general schedule for the day, and a piece of paper taped up, which said the names and numbers for the whole band. He mused over the list, looking at the various sections until his eyes landed on the trumpets. 

His section seemed even bigger than last year, with 6 new freshmen. Briefly, Zak wondered which one would be  _ his  _ freshman. Truly, Zak had been looking forward to making a lasting impression, leaving his mark on MIMB for years to come. He still remembered, and talked vividly for years about his senior, the one who helped and guided him into the band. Really, they were the only reason that he stayed in the marching band, until he met Darryl, and their circle of friends that expanded each year.

Smiling softly to himself, he focused back on the list in front of him, deciding to pick a name and focus on them.  _ How about Tommy?  _ He mused, rocking on his feet a little.  _ That’s a nice name. Hopefully a nice kid too. _

Shaking his head little, Zak turned around, facing the empty room again. Glancing at the stands in the corner, he took a deep breath, then headed over, deciding to make Bad’s first day a little easier, and set up the stands.

  
  


———

  
  


“My name is Tommy, I’m a freshman, and I’m only in this stupid fucking band because my coward of a best friend didn’t want to be alone,” the boy, Tommy, said, his cherub-like face twisting. The section was quiet for a moment, the upperclassmen dumbfounded. All Zak could think was  _ God fucking damnit. _

It was a bit later, and everyone had arrived at the school. They all sat together on the stage, sitting in their respective sections, forming circles. The Drum Majors we’re walking around, checking in and making sure they all stayed on task. Speaking of, where was Bad-

“Language!”  _ Speak of the devil and he shall appear.  _ A voice came from behind him, and Zak twisted slightly to see Darryl standing behind him, hands on his hips and face scrunched up rather cutely. “What kind of a fun fact is that, you ragamuffin?”

“Ragamuffin? Listen here you twat, who do you think you are to boss me around?” Tommy retorted, snarling viciously. Zak watched as Darryl puffed in anger, and quickly stood up and slung an arm over the taller boy's shoulder.

“Tommy, watch your mouth,” he warned. “This is Bad, one of our Drum Majors. Essentially, the one who determines how the show will go. He’s  _ extremely  _ important, and you’re absolutely not allowed to bad mouth him, only I can do that.”

“Aw, Skeppy!” Darryl said, immediately relaxing and smiling sweetly at Zak.

“Ugh, gross, keep your PDA away from the section.” Schlatt, one of the other seniors said, rolling his eyes. Zak watched as Tommy immediately wiped his head over, staring at Schlatt with something akin to admiration in his eyes.  _ Great,  _ he thought.  _ Well, I didn’t really want Tommy anyway. _

“Shut up Schlatt,” Zak grumbled, slipping his arm off Darryl’s shoulders and sitting back down, but still making room for his best friend to sit next to him. The boy quickly sat down next to him, shuffling a little to make sure they both had room and weren’t squished up against each other. “How about you go next then, Schlatt?”

“Fine,” the senior said gruffly. “Name’s Schlatt. Senior. Been in the band all four years. Fuck Obama.” Zak rolled his eyes, patting Darryl on the knee when he bristled at the language.

“Thank you, Schlatt,” he said flatly, earning a glare from the guy and his new duckling. “I’m Zak, but everyone calls me Skeppy. I’m a Senior, and your section leader. 14.”

“Geppy!” Darryl giggled, playfully hitting his shoulder. “That’s not a fun fact!”

“But 14.”

“Oh my goodness, Skeppy,” Darryl said, shaking his head. Unbeknownst to the two of them, one of the seniors was passing around his phone to the freshmen, adding them to the group chat. “I suppose I’ll go next. I’m Darryl, but please just call me Bad.”

“Because he thinks he’s a badass,” Zak cut in, earning another smack.

“Language, Skeppy,” Darryl said, not missing a beat. “I’m a Senior, and I was part of the pit originally, but now I’m a Drum Major. Ummm, for my fun fact…”

“He  _ loves  _ muffins,” Skeppy said, cutting in again. “Like, a  _ lot. _ ”

“Ooh, yeah! I love muffins!” Darryl exclaimed, flapping his arms excitedly. Some of the freshmen giggled, clearly already endeared to him.

“Alright everyone, are you all done?” A loud voice boomed over the crowd. The section turned together to see Mr. Dahlberg, the band director, standing at the front of the stage. “What do you say to us doing some Get to Know you activities?” The stage cheered, and Mr. Dahlberg clapped his hands, nodding.

“Alright! Let’s see who is the best section…” he said, rubbing his hands together. “How about a good ol’ fashioned Dance Off?”

Another cheer, and Zak grinned widely, glancing at Darryl beside him. He barely listened as the director explained the rules - dance in front of each other, maintaining eye contact. If you laugh, you lose - and he got up, facing Darryl directly. The taller boy smiled at him, putting his hands on his hips and waiting for the music to start.

A popular pop song drifted over their heads, signaling the start of the Dance Off. Immediately, Zak moved wildly, like one of those inflatable tube men in the front of used car dealerships. Darryl didn’t move for a moment, a faraway look in his eyes. Then suddenly, he pulled his arm back, before dropping into a rather impressive whip, and backing up in a nae nae. Zak burst out laughing, doubling over and clutching his stomach, before falling down and sitting on the ground. Darryl giggled above him, before groaning and sliding down next to him.

“That’s the 4th time I’ve beaten you?” Darryl said lightly, leaning back and watching the terrible dancing around them. Zak groaned, rubbing his face with his hands.

“No, it was a tie, Bad!” He exclaimed, laughter slowly subsiding.

“No it wasn’t! You laughed, so I won fair and square!” Darryl argued, sitting up and crossing his arms.

“Yeah, but you still laughed!”

“I was laughing at how silly you looked, Skeppy! That doesn’t count!”

“It does too! You laughed  _ because  _ of me, so it’s a tie!”

“And the winner of the Dance Off,” Mr. Dahlberg’s voice cut off their argument. “For the fourth year in a row, Schlatt!” Zak looked towards the front of the stage, where Mr. Dahlberg held up Schlatt’s hand. The trumpet had a blank, almost bored look on his face. Standing next to him, clearly trying to fight a smile, stood Wilbur with crossed arms.

“Aha! The trumpets won, so I won!” Zak said triumphantly, grinning at Darryl, who huffed and crossed his arms.

“I have to go, the drum majors have to be together.” Darryl said, standing up as the rest of the band went back to their sections.

“Wait, Bad, no! I didn’t mean it,” Zak whined, grabbing the boy's wrist. “Don’t leave me!” 

“It’s okay Geppy, I’ll be back later,” Darryl said gently, prying Zak’s fingers off his wrist. “I know you didn’t mean it.” Zak nodded reluctantly, and they walked back to their respective sections, getting ready for the next activity. 

“Alright! Now, it’s time to see who can do the splits! Everyone choose one person in your section, and let’s go!” Mr. Dahlberg explained, and the chatter grew rather quickly.

“Who’s good at the splits?” Zak asked, looking around the circle. No one said anything, some even pointedly avoiding his eyes. “Anybody?”

“I’ll go!” Tommy said suddenly, staring at the front of the stage. “If Tubbo thinks he can do it, I’m going to prove him wrong.” The freshman got up, without waiting for Zak to say anything, taking a spot at the front of the stage, next to a small flute boy.

“Why yes Tommy, of course you can be the trumpet representative, thank you so much for asking politely,” Zak said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. The rest of the section chuckled quietly, turning to face the front.

The small flute boy, Tubbo, presumably, attempted to do the splits, spreading his feet as far they would go. He barely dropped a couple inches. Tommy went next, a smug grin on his face, and followed the same motions. He didn’t even drop as far as Tubbo. Zak facepalmed.

The rest of the sections went, most barely getting further than Tubbo. Harvey, an Alto, almost got all the way down, not quite reaching the floor. The colorguard, Finn, went next, and he smirked as he quickly slid all the way down, admiring his long nails.

“And what a surprise, colorguard wins again,” Mr. Dahlberg said flatly, not a hint of surprise in his voice. “Okay head back to your sections, and figure out who has the longest tongue!”

“Longest tongue?” One of his freshies asked, a confused look on their face. 

“Yeah,” Zak said, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s weird like that.”

“I have the longest tongue,” Tommy announced, reaching the section. 

“Shut up Tommy, you couldn’t even do the splits,” a junior said, rolling her eyes. The blonde boy bristled, sitting back down.

“ _ Anyway, _ ” Zak interrupted. “Everyone stick out their tongue as far as it can go.”

After some deliberation, they collectively decided the junior who snapped at Tommy had the longest tongue, as she was able to touch her nose with relative ease. Wishing her luck, Zak watched as she headed to the front, and joined the people already up there. He only recognized one other person, Clay, a senior member of the drumline.

Once every section had a representative, they stuck out their tongues in pairs of two, getting rid of the shorter one each time. The junior trumpet easily made it through the first round, as the clarinet beside her could barely reach his nose. When it reached Clay, he stuck out his tongue, which was surprisingly long.

“Bet someone’s happy with that!” A yell came from the trombone section, probably Nick, one of Clay’s friends. The band laughed, along with Clay, who smirked and winked at the clarinet section.

Clay ended up winning, but the trumpet girl did get second place, so Zak counted it as a win anyway. The competitions continued, with many jokes and even stupider prompts. Zak was happy to claim his crown of ‘highest pitch screech’, beating even the flute girl chosen.

“Good job everyone! Now, however, is time to head outside! Let’s learn how to march!” Everyone cheered, and scrambled off the stage to grab their belongings. Zak stood near the door to the band room, casually waiting for the drum majors to finish whatever the hell they were doing.

“Aww, Skeppy, you waited for me!” Darryl said, smiling as he shrugged a bag onto his shoulder and walking over to him. “You didn’t have to.”

“You would’ve complained otherwise,” Zak claimed. “I want to be in the parking lot already, but you’re just a slow ass muffin.” The two fell into step together, walking through the band room and heading outside.

“Language, Skeppy,” Darryl chastised, slowing down for Zak to grab his trumpet from the slot room. “You would’ve waited anyway, don’t lie.”

“Nah,” Zak smiled, and they both knew he was lying.

Most of the band were outside already, gathering on the small strip of grass to the side. The colorguard, drumline, and pit went to their respective locations, the drumline and pit around the back of the school and the colorguard on one of the soccer fields.

Zak claimed his usual spot in the trumpet section, leaning his case against the light post and setting his water jug beside it. Darryl went on, meeting up with Will, who was standing next to the metronome at the front of the parking lot.

“Hello everybody!” A tall man with curly, wild hair said, standing in the middle of the parking lot, and carrying a microphone. “Welcome to Visual! I am Joseph, and this is my good friend Jordan,” he gestured beside him, to a shorter man with short black hair and a stubbly chin. “We’ve been working with Marigold Ink for many years now, and I certainly recognize some of you folks from previous years.”

“We are here to teach about the basics of marching,” Jordan took over. “How to take the right step size, the right posture, and much more. But we’re starting with the basics, so if everyone could grab a tick out here…”

Zak quickly hopped onto the lot, standing on one of the many tick marks that littered the field. He made sure to be on the first set of ticks, so the rookies behind him would see his example. Will grabbed the met, and walked through the lot, setting it up at the back. Darryl loitered around the front, glancing around and waiting for the staff to tell him what to do. Zak shot him a thumbs up, and a look that said ‘you got this!’

“Alright, while we wait for some of the stragglers, let’s start with some of the lingo we use; who can tell me what a tick means?” Jordan asked, walking between the lines of people. Several people’s hands slowly raised, mostly upperclassmen. “Techno, how about you?”

“A tick is the little markings on the field around us. They dictate where we are on the field. Every tick is exactly 4 steps apart front to back, and 8 steps side to side,” Dave recited, in a bored tone. He was a tall senior tuba, with bright pink dyed hair and a pig beanie on his head.

“Good,” Joseph said, standing at the front of the field. “Now who can explain how big a step is? George?”

“A single, 8 to 5 step is about this big,” George said, stepping out for an example. “8 to 5 means 8 steps to 5 yards, the distance between the yard lines.” The clarinet boy drew his leg back, gesturing between the line he stood on and the one to his left.

“Yes. 8 to 5 steps are what we use to march,” Joseph explained. “We’ll teach you how to take a perfect step, and get it in your muscle memory.”

“Soon you’ll be marching to and from class!” Zak blurted out, grinning.

“Well, that’s the goal,” Jordan laughed, as he walked past him. "But first things first; tendu."

"What the fuck does  _ fondue _ have to do with Marching Band?" Tommy said, crossing his arms. Tubbo, who stood on the tick in front of him, flushed bright red as all the upperclassmen turned to stare at Tommy.

"Language!" Zak spun around to see Darryl, who was teetering on the edge of the sidewalk, all puffed up in anger. "And its  _ ten _ du, not  _ fon _ due. Tendu is the one of the most fundamental parts of marching band."

"Thank you Bad," Joseph said, putting a hand on Darryl's shoulder. "Now, let's start."

  
  


———

  
  


"That's the end of Mini Camp!" Mr. Dahlburg smiled, as he dropped his arms. "See you in July!"

The band room started buzzing with noise, packed to the brim with the hornline. Zak quickly tucked his music binder in his drawstring bag, slinging it over his shoulder and slipping through the crowd effortlessly. It was really the one and only time he was glad about how small he was. He made it to the slot room fairly quickly, and put away his trumpet in record time, before ducking back out and worming his way to the hallway. 

There he waited, stopping every freshman and rookie trumpet he saw, making sure to get their phone number written down. 

"Hey, Tommy!" He said, holding out his hand to stop the tall freshie. 

"What?" Tommy asked, face scrunched up in annoyance. Tubbo, who was walking with him, elbowed his friend in the ribs, before sticking out a hand to Zak.

"Don't mind Tommy, he's just like that sometimes," the flute boy said sweetly, as Zak shook his hand. "I'm Toby by the way, or you can call me Tubbo, like most everyone does."

"Oh, thanks Tubbo," Zak said, raising his eyebrows. "I'm Zak, but call me Skeppy. I'm Tommy's section leader." He slung an arm around Tommy's shoulders, dragging him down to his height. "I'm gonna be honest, I'm not really sure why you two are friends. You seem really nice, and Tommy is… Well, Tommy." The blonde boy spluttered, as Toby laughed.

"That's fair, I get that a lot actually. But he's actually pretty nice once you get to know him," Toby explained, rolling his eyes fondly. "Anyway, did you need something?"

"Oh, right!" Zak said, releasing the freshman from his side. "Tommy, I need your phone number."

"What? Why?" Tommy snapped, rubbing his shoulder as he went back to Toby's side. Zak opened his mouth the explain, but then the flute boy beat him to it.

"For a group chat," he explained, looking patient. "My section leader already asked me for mine. He needs it so he can make one."

"Oh," Tommy said. "Ok." He rattled off his phone number, which Zak quickly punched into his phone. The second he finished, the boy noticed Schlatt walking by and talking with Will, and immediately started following them. Toby just shook his head and laughed.

"Hey, can you teach me how to do that?" Zak begged, grabbing Toby's sleeve. Tommy had been a pain in the ass the entire day, and Zak was  _ not  _ looking forward to dealing with him every rehearsal. Toby blinked at him, before laughing again.

"Please, if I knew how it worked, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't be my friend," he said, shaking his head and smiling. "He likes to be annoying. Plus, if he was easier to control, I don't know if I could handle that. I like him how he is." The short boy then ran off, chasing his friend down the hall. Zak stared a moment, dumbfounded, before chuckling.

"Hey Skeppy! What are you laughing at?" Zak looked back at the Band Room door, and saw Darryl walking towards him, with his message bag on his hip and a smile of his face.

"Oh, nothing, Bad. Nothing at all," Zak sighed, still laughing a little. The Drum Major huffed a little, and in sync they started walking towards the exit.

"Alright Geppy, fine, you  _ don't _ have to tell me," Darryl said in a teasing voice. "You just don't trust your  _ best friend _ , I get it." He started walking faster, using his stupid long legs to his advantage.

"Wait, Bad, it's not like that!" Zak screeched, giving chase. "I would never trust you! I mean, I wouldn't not trust you? Ugh!" Instead of trying to correct himself, he simply ran faster, trying to catch up to his friend. Thankfully, despite Darryl being taller, he never was that quick of a runner, and Zak caught up in no time, tackling him.

"Ahhh, Skeppy!" Darryl yelped, falling to the ground, with Zak landing on his back. "Get off me!"

"Never!" Zak said defiantly, adjusting so his legs were flat on Darryl's back, and putting his hands on his shoulders. "Not until I tell you how much I trust you!"

"Alright, alright! I get it Skeppy!" Darryl exclaimed, trying and failing to squirm out of his grip. "Can you get off me now?"

"Nope!" Zak grinned, popping the p. "Not 'til you say it back!" The hall, thankfully, was rather empty, with only a few stragglers still passing by. 

"What's going on?" A voice said, and Zak twisted carefully, making sure Darryl couldn't move, to see 3 people approaching them: George, a short senior clarinet, Clay, the tall drumline section leader, and Nick, their senior trombone friend. Clay had his arm slung around George's shoulders. George, the one who had spoken, had his arms crossed, looking rather confused.

"George! Dream, Sapnap!" Zak said, like the situation was totally normal. "How's it going?"

"Nothing much," Clay shrugged, twirling one of his lime green drumsticks in his hand. "Why are you pinning Bad to the floor?"

"Oh, you know, just trying to tell him how much I trust him," Zak explained. All three nodded in understanding

"Ah, makes sense. Well, carry on." With that, the three started walking again.

"Wait, you're not even gonna help me?" Darryl yelled, struggling to look at them.

"You trust Skeppy, don't you?" Nick said, speaking over his shoulder.

"Well, yeah, of course I do, but-"

"No buts! Now kiss and make up!" The door closed behind them, leaving Zak and Darryl alone.

"Ugh! That silly ragamuffin!"

"C'mon Bad, just say it!" Zak said, leaning over to speak in his ear. "Don't you trust me?"

"Ah!" Darryl yelped, and Zak snickered as the tip of his ear turned bright red. "Fine! Yes, I trust you Skeppy! I always do!"

"Good," Zak nodded, and climbed off his back, offering a hand to help him up. Darryl grabbed it, heaving himself up then dusting off his shirt.

"Geppy, I love you, but please don't do that again," he grumbled, as they started walking again. 

"Alright, alright, I won't," Zak said, still grinning widely. "But Bad, seriously." He stopped Darryl, grabbing his elbow and making him turn to face him. "I would never,  _ ever _ hide something from you. At least, nothing serious." The taller boy stared at him, with slightly widened eyes and a faint blush on his cheeks. The silence stretched on for a moment.

"Do you promise?" Darryl said, much quieter than before.

"Yeah," Zak smiled. "I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed!! be sure to check out @tragedys_fanart on insta for some sneak peaks at what's to come!! also please comment, and lemme know what you think
> 
> stay tuned for the next chapter!!
> 
> ps: the visual staff (jordan and joseph) as well as the director are not ocs!! lemme know if you figure out who they are ;)


	3. Chapter 2 - Rehearsals/Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first rehearsal! Day one is rather fleshed out, so you can get an idea for how everyday typically goes. Darryl brings muffins, laughs, and anxiety with him, like usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi again! been a bit! so this chapter is to start using off with the actual season, how everyday life in marching band kinda goes. next chapter we'll start speeding up a bit, but this will (hopefully) explain the basics of our typical days, if that makes sense, lol.
> 
> Thank you so much to @sp4c3y for beta reading this for me!!

Darryl was buzzing with excitement. He couldn't sit still, walking around his kitchen island while double and triple checking that he had everything he needed. Really, all he was waiting for was Zak to text him, to let him know he was outside. 

Absentmindedly, he reached up and rubbed the metal M around his neck, the cord digging in his skin as he pulled on it a little. Will had given it to him, a couple months previous, his own necklace shining on his neck. It marked the Drum Major, and Darryl  _ still _ couldn't believe he got the position. It sparked a small smile on his face, momentarily distracting him from his pacing.

Obnoxious honking from outside startled him from his thoughts, and he quickly grabbed his messenger bag from the counter, slinging it over his shoulder. Then, he grabbed the tray of muffins he made and quickly ran outside, yelling goodbye to his parents on his way.

Zak was sitting in his car outside, a small, bright blue little thing, staring out the window at Darryl. His hand offered over the steering wheel, right over the horn, with a taunting grin on his face.

"Don't you dare, Skeppy," Darryl muttered, making his way to the other side of the car, "Or no muffin for you." 

The shorter boy did not heed his warning.

The horn honked again, just as Darryl passed the front of the car. The sound was right in his ear, and he shrugged his shoulder up, blocking his ear as best he could.

"Gosh darn it Skeppy!" Darryl said as he opened the door. Zak just laughed, reaching over and grabbing the tray of muffins so Darryl could buckle up.

"Ooh, muffins!" He said, wiggling his fingers over them. Darryl quickly swatted his hand away, taking away the tray.

"No muffins for ragamuffins!" He huffed, carefully setting the tray down on his knees. Zak laughed even more, backing out of the driveway and heading to the school. “So, how was your summer?” Darryl asked, as if they hadn’t spent practically every day together.

“Oh, you know,” Zak said, playing along. “Kinda boring, didn’t really do much. How about you, Bad?” Even though he was diligently facing the road, Darryl could still see the amusement on his face

“Same as yours, really. Just practiced for marching band the whole time.” It was definitely  _ not  _ the whole time. “One really annoying trumpet player wouldn’t leave me alone though. Always calling me and demanding I conduct for him.”

“Sounds like a dick.” Like he wasn’t the exact trumpet player.

“Language! Really, he isn’t  _ that  _ bad,” Darryl drawled, fiddling with his necklace. “Just clingy.”

“I am not clingy!” Zak gasped, dropping the game to be mock offended. Well, Darryl  _ hoped  _ he wasn’t offended. He really didn’t mean to make fun of Skeppy, he was just playing along, not trying to be rude-. “Am I not allowed to hang out with my best friend?”

“Ah, sorry Skeppy, I didn’t mean it like that,” Darryl said, grabbing the necklace and pulling on it a little. “I was joking, of course you can always hang out with me-”

“Bad,” Zak’s calm voice cut him off, and he felt a gentle hand on his chin, guiding his head to face him. “It’s alright. You don’t have to apologize to me.”

“O-oh,” Darryl stuttered, flushing a deep red. “I-I’m sorry Skeppy, I-”

“Nope. No more apologizing, not for the rest of the day,” Zak stated, moving his hand down to the one that was still clutching the necklace, carefully untangling it. Darryl hadn’t realized how tight his grip had gotten, looking down at the white knuckles.

“I- okay,” he said softly, barely able to focus as Zak started to rub his knuckles, seemingly not realizing what he was doing. To distract himself, he glanced away, outside of the car. Huh, they had already arrived at the school, parked right near the front. Thankfully, no one else was really around, otherwise Darryl might’ve combusted from the embarrassment.

“Now,” Zak paused, looking away from Darryl and turning off his car. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

  
  


———

  
  


“1 2 3 4, 1 2 3 4,” Will counted. He and Darryl were standing a little ways away from the band, practicing their conducting. Darryl knew how to conduct, he just needed a little practice on making sure he did it in sync with Will. It was going pretty well so far, and he was feeling a bit more confident in his skills.

“1 2 3 4, 1 2 3, 1 2 3,” he changed time signature, and Darryl quickly adapted, moving his arms in a triangle formation. Will nodded at him, making one hand a fist and then cutting off the beat. “Good,” he said, dropping his arms. “I think you’re really getting the hang of this. You’ll be surpassing me in no time.”

“Oh no, Wilbur, I’ll never surpass you!” Darryl exclaimed, eyes wide. “You’re the Drum Major!”

“Yeah, I am,” Will said, resting his hand on Darryl’s shoulder and looking down in his eyes. “But so are you, Bad. And you’re so much better than you know. If anyone can surpass  _ me, _ which isn’t an easy feat, it would be you.”

“Wilbur…” Darryl said softly, eyes glistening. Before he could say anything more, a loud yelling interrupted him.

“Hey! Wilbur Foot! Get the hell over here!” Schlatt was yelling over at them, waving his arms obnoxiously. Will groaned, before patting Darryl’s shoulder and jogging over to the senior.

“Jonathan Schlatt I swear to god!” Darryl chuckled, watching the two start bickering, following behind at a slower pace. The band was in a water break, chitchatting and goofing off. Zak was sitting on a base of one of the parking lot lights, talking with Nick and George. The latter noticed Darryl walking towards them, and started waving him over, which drew the attention of the other two.

“Hello Bad,” George said, as he approached the group. 

“Hi George, Sapnap!” Darryl smiled, slowing to a stop and leaning against the light post. “Did you get your muffins?”

“Yeah! Thanks for remembering my favorite, Bad,” Nick grinned, “Love apple cinnamon.” The trombone licked his lips, rubbing his stomach.

“Of course! I have a great memory for muffins," he giggled. "So, how's rehearsal been?"

"Alright. It's fun watching the freshman flounder," George said, rolling his eyes fondly. "Techno keeps terrifying them though."

"Tommy literally never shuts up, ever," Zak groaned, leaning back against the post dramatically. "Honestly I'm just glad that Tubbo is here, I could  _ not  _ handle him otherwise."

"Aw, don't say that Skeppy!" Darryl whined, setting a hand on the shorter boy's shoulder. "You'd do great! You're a great section leader!"

"Thanks Bad," Zak smiled. "But you haven't spent enough time with him. He's a menace, an absolute  _ terror. _ "

"Someone say something about menace?" A voice cut in, and Darryl turned slightly to see Will walking towards them, a wide grin on his face. Schlatt was just behind him, looking bored.

"Oh hi Wilbur, Skeppy's just complaining about his freshman," George explained, gesturing over to the tall blonde freshman in question.

"Oh, freshman? I love our new ones, they're so sweet," Will grinned over at Tommy and Toby. "Especially Tubbo. He's so gentle. Makes me almost afraid to break him."

"I  _ wish _ I got Tubbo!" Zak exclaimed, gesturing wildly. "But  _ no,  _ instead I get  _ Tommy! _

"Tubbo is mine, bitches! Fuck off!" A high pitched screeching filled Darryl's ears, and he cringed and covered them, watching as Tommy yelled at the seniors, before dragging Toby away. Toby, for his part, looked a little regretful, shrugging his shoulders at them.

"Language!" He chastised, putting both hands on his hips. The rest of his friends simply laughed, some shaking their heads. "Now, can we all agree that we don't  _ have  _ people?"

"Speak for yourself, Bad, I think Dream and George definitely  _ have  _ each other, all right," Nick laughed, elbowing the clarinet beside him, who blushed a bright red.

"Shut up Sapnap," he mumbled in retaliation.

"Y'all should know you're making quite the scene," Schlatt interrupted, getting their attention as he gestured around their circle. A bunch of juniors and sophomores were quietly laughing, while the freshmen looked rather confused. "Scram! Go, get your instruments set up!" The crowd dispersed quickly, scrambling to their respective cases.

"Well, I believe that's our cue to get ready," Will said, smiling at Darryl. 

"Oh, yeah! Let's get this thing started," he said, walking towards Will and leaving the semi-circle. "Bye Skeppy! Bye Sapnap, George, Schlatt! I'll see you later!"

Schlatt snorted, before rolling his eyes and turning away from them. Zak waved goodbye, and reached down to his trumpet case to start putting it together. Nick and George both wandered away, probably off to their own sections. Smiling softly, Darryl turned back around, jogging to catch up with the taller Drum Major.

  
  


———

  
  


“Alright, who thinks they have the show memorized?” Mr. Dahlberg asked, standing in front of the three musical arcs. Flutes and clarinets in the front row, saxes, mellophones, and low reeds in the 2nd, and the rest of the brass in the 3rd. Will stood on a step ladder a couple feet behind Mr. Dahlberg, in perfect resting position. Darryl, on the other hand, was standing right next to the ladder, fidgeting with the metronome hanging off of his hip.

No one in the band raised their hand, some of the freshmen looking dumbfounded. Darryl could hear a couple whispers, mostly from the upperclassmen, complaining about how they  _ almost  _ have the full thing. 

“Really? No one?” Mr. Dahlberg shook his head, seemingly disappointed. “Okay. Skeppy!” Zak’s head shot up, his posture immediately improving, which caused Darryl to giggle a little bit.

“Yeah?” He looked frazzled, and he clearly hadn’t been paying attention to what was being said.

“Can you please play your part from the beginning of the show?”

“Oh, uh, sure? Just me?”

“Yep.”

“Alright.” Zak said, shuffling in place to get into position. He held his trumpet out in front of him, in set position, focused solely on Will. The taller Drum Major nodded, then put his hands, waiting for the met to start. Clicking it on, Darryl watched closely as Zak started marking time, snapping his horn up right in time. After a brief pause, he started playing, a startlingly beautiful solo, filled with screeching high notes and tumbling, crashing low notes. It felt empowering, with strong, almost narcissistic energy. The music ended sharply, cut off in the middle of the finishing note. Darryl clicked off the met, slightly dazed. He wasn’t the only one, most of the woodwinds looked surprised, whispering to themselves like  _ 'I never thought a trumpet could sound  _ good _!'  _

“It’s not great yet, some of my fingerings are a little off but I have been practicing,” Zak said, lowering his trumpet and relaxing his posture.

“Thanks Skeppy. That’s your trumpet solo for the first movement, glad to see you’ve been practicing,” Mr. Dahlberg said. “Let’s work on the rest of Movement One, alright?"

  
  


———

  
  


The rest of rehearsal went by fairly smoothly, with very few disruptions. Before Darryl knew it, Will was cutting off the last note, and Mr. Dahlberg was dismissing them from rehearsal. He quickly put away the metronome, as Will went and picked up the yellow yard markers along the edge of the parking lot. 

"I'll take this inside, okay?" Will said, dropping the markers into the Drum Major bin, grabbing the handles on the side. "It looks like Skeppy's waiting for you."

"Are you sure?" Darryl asked, shifting his weight from side to side. "Didn't you grab it this morning too?"

"Yeah, that just means you have to do it twice next rehearsal," Will explained, laughing. The taller boy then walked away, wheeling the bin towards the school. A shorter figure joined him, probably Schlatt, based on the yells that came floating back to him.

Laughing slightly, Darryl turned around, looking for Zak. True enough, there he was, leaning on a tree and looking bored. Most other people had already gone, only small groups of friends and some lone freshman left. He quickly made his way over to his friend, who noticed his approach.

"Finally!" Zak exclaimed dramatically, standing up straight. "You take  _ forever _ !"

"Sorry Skeppy, I had to help Wilbur with our duties." Darryl said, as they started heading towards the car.

"But what about your  _ best friend, _ Bad? You're just gonna make me  _ wait _ for your slow ass?" He said, unlocking his car and tucking his things in the trunk.

"Language, Geppy! And you'll just have to get used to it, won't you?"

"I will leave you here, don't tempt me."

"You wouldn't."

"Bet." Faster than Darryl was expecting, Zak hopped in the car, starting it and locking the doors.

"Skeppy! Let me in!" Pulling on the handle did nothing, so he resorted to knocking loudly on the window, scowling at Zak's adorable grin. "Skeppy! Please! I'll give you two muffins tomorrow!"

The window rolled down a crack. "You promise?"

"Yes! Now let me in Skeppy, please." The car door clicked, and he quickly hopped in, buckling up and smacking Zak's arm.

"Hey! What was that for?" Zak said, rubbing his arm as he buckled himself.

"For locking me out, you muffin head!”

“I still get those muffins, right?”

“Skeppy!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes I am subtly jabbing at trumpet players what of it
> 
> anyway, I hope you enjoyed! not too terribly much happened, but its only the start! next chapter, look forward to dot cards, yelling, 14, and hints of band camp! 
> 
> leave a comment telling me what you thought! and as always, make sure to check out @tragedys_fanart on insta for art and hints of what's to come!!


	4. Chapter 3 - Rehearsals/Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dot Card time!! The show is starting to roll, yay!
> 
> Featuring: dumb freshmen, stupid bets, and Zak being a little confused with what his card says...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh I'm so sorry everyone!! I did not mean for this chapter to take so long! This story kinda fell out of my interest, and I just couldn't finish the chapter. Luckily, I finally pushed through and finished it!! 
> 
> Thank you, once again, to @sp4c3y for betaing this chapter!! If anyone has interest in helping beta, either comment below or message me on tumblr! 
> 
> Now, onto the chapter!

The next couple rehearsals flew by fairly quickly, all of them routine and rather boring. Zak knew it was only the beginning though, things would pick up steam soon enough. So he waited patiently, practicing his solo and yelling at Tommy for doing something stupid. Darryl slowly got more and more confident in his role with Zak cheering him on like his own personal cheerleader. Soon enough though, the day came about a week before band camp: Dot Cards.

———

“Skeppy! Here’s the trumpet’s’ dot cards.” Darryl said, handing over a stack of small square papers. Zak quickly ducked out of the crowd around the drum majors, looking for his own dot card. It was right on top, looking a little odd, different from past years. Before he could inspect it, he reached his section, where Schlatt was waiting impatiently with the list of the section order.

“Alright, trumpet 1 for me, 2 for you...” Zak started, handing out the cards in his hands. Schlatt helped him identify who was what number, calling them up in order to make it easier. They were all standing in the band room, which was rather loud with the noise of the whole band talking.

“Trumpet 18, the last, for you Tommy.” The freshman huffed as he snatched the card, inspecting it thoroughly.

“What the hell does ‘.5 steps inside 30 Y-D L-N’ mean?” he complained, throwing his arms up dramatically. The upperclassmen around him ignored him, already pulling out dot books and filling them out.

“We’ll get to that Tommy, calm down,” Zak said, rolling his eyes. “For now, just take a picture of your card on your phone, and don’t lose it.”

Tommy just huffed again, turning around and walking away, presumably, to the flute section. He did pull out his phone though, so Zak counted it as a success. 

The section leader had been attempting to wrangle Tommy for the past week, in an attempt toget him to sit and listen to his instructions. It had been fairly unsuccessful, with the freshman ignoring everything he said, until either Schlatt or Toby corrected Tommy themselves. It was infuriating, and Zak was ready to tear his own hair out, but he’s nothing if not stubborn. More stubborn than Tommy could be, surely. And the evidence was clear, with the freshman carefully taking a photo of the small sheet of paper on his way to his friend.

“Does everyone have their cards?” Joseph called over the crowd, the tall man standing in the front of the room. Jordan was beside him, waiting with his arms crossed over his chest. “Okay, sit down if you can hear me.”

Most everyone sat down immediately, which attracted the attention of those who didn’t hear, and followed suit. Within seconds, the room was quiet and still, filled mostly with the sounds of rustling paper and scratching pencils. Zak knew what they were going to say, and so he tuned them out in favor of filling out his own dot book.

Set 1 was rather simple, 14 steps Behind the Front Hash, and On the 50th Yard Line. He wrote it carefully down, in shorthand like so: 14 BFHS, On 50. The second set made him pause. It was the exact same, no movement. Must be a hold then. It makes sense, he thought as he wrote it down. I do have a solo.

What really confused him though, was the fact that he still didn’t move for the next 10 sets. The counts varied, and a quick glance at Schlatt’s dot book showed him that other people were moving, but he was still. He was about to raise his hand, and ask if there was something wrong, but before he could, there was a loud cheer, and everyone started grabbing their things and heading out the door.

“Hi Skeppy!” Said a voice beside him, and he turned slightly to see Darryl standing next to him, resting his arm on the met slung on his hip.

“Hi Bad,” he sighed. “Did everyone get their cards?” They started walking outside, as Zak shrugged his trumpet case onto his back.

“Yep! I’m still not sure quite how to read them, but I probably have a better understanding than the freshmen.” Darryl laughed, fiddling with his silver M necklace again.

“Ha! I think anyone can read them better than the freshmen.” Zak exclaimed, shifting his water jug to his other hand and tucking his card into his pocket. He reached over, grabbing Darryl’s hand and pulling it down, holding it.

“Ah, well, uh…” The older boy stuttered. “I still think that’s an achievement, especially for a pit member.”

“I bet Mega could read it better than you,” Zak jabbed lightly, giggling at the offended noise Darryl made.

“What? No way, he’s a sophomore! I’ve been here way longer!”

“5 bucks says he can find my dot before you.”

“You’re on! I’ll talk to him after rehearsal.”

Zak laughed again, before waving Darryl on and letting go of his hand, having reached the trumpet section. The drum major kept going, heading towards the large scaffolding set up in front of the parking lot, where Will was waiting.

“Ok, what side are you all on?” The trumpet asked, setting down his stuff and rubbing his hands together as he faced his section. The upperclassmen held up their hands, an even split of 1s and 2s. The underclassmen were a bit more hesitant, but they still did it, showing their numbers.

“What about you?” A junior asked, the same one who competed in the ‘Longest Tongue’ in Mini Camp. Her name was Stella, and she was looking expectantly at him.

“Ah, yeah. I’m right on the 50, so technically both? Or neither, I guess,” Zak shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “And I don’t move, like ever.”

“Lemme see.” Schlatt demanded, making grabby hands at him. He complied, grabbing his dot card and handing it over. The senior started looking it over, Stella moving to look over his shoulder. “Damn, you weren’t kidding. Isn’t this smack dab in the middle of the field?”

“Wait really?” He snatched it back, looking again. 14 BFHS, and on the 50. In his head, he did some counting; 28 steps between sidelines, and hashes. Half of 28, 14. And on the fifty… “Holy shit you’re right.”

“I’m always right,” Schlatt grumbled, returning to writing down his dots. 

“Test, test. Is this thing on?” Jordan’s voice rang out over the parking lot, from the small electrical speaker set up in the back. A chorus of ‘no’ answered him. “Ha ha, thanks everyone. Okay, if you all could please find set 1? No instruments.”

Zak groaned slightly, before putting his dot book around his neck and hurrying onto the lot. It bounced on his chest as he headed for the middle. Everyone else was a bit slower, wandering around with dot cards in hand. Slowly but surely, they filled in the space around him, and he quickly realized that they were surrounding him. There was a good yard line and a half between him and the nearest person, but he could tell it was a closed shape. He suddenly felt rather self-conscious, wondering if he forgot how to read his dot card properly.

“Alright, it looks like everyone is good. Drum majors, staff, if you could help any stragglers find their way,” Jordan announced, and Zak looked directly in front of him, and up, to the scaffolding set up in front of the lot. It was quite tall, and while Jordan looked at ease, leaning casually against the railing, Joseph stood stiff as a board next to him, clutching the railing tightly. “This is set 1. When we start the show, this is your first dot. Now, everybody, if you would please find set 2.”

Sounds of shoes scuffing against the pavement rose, and Zak watched the blobby form around him spin. A follow the leader, maybe? 

Many of the band members were watching him, clearly curious. The trumpets did too, although they knew he didn’t move at all. He just held his head high, keeping his posture as perfect as possible. People slowly stopped moving, waiting for the staff to give further instructions.

“If you’ll notice, this set is the same as the previous, but you basically ‘swapped’ places with your neighbors. This is called a ‘follow the leader,’” Jordan explained. “So instead of a straight-line path, you’ll be taking a curved one, following the shape. Now, point to your previous dot, and follow the shape to it.”

The band walked back, some just as nervous as previous, while others (the upperclassmen) marched confidently back to their dots. Zak just watched them, keeping his posture and his dot. Normally he would be chatting about with the people next to him, rubbing the fact that he doesn’t move in their faces. This time, however, he was pretty sure that they were plenty aware of that fact.

“Okay, now we’re gonna do this a couple times, alright? First time, you’ll be facing your dot and marching to it with the met, and then the second time, you’ll be facing front. Set!” 

At the command, the majority of the band straightened up immediately, sticking their arms up in a weird t-pose. (Instead of their arms straight out, they were bent at the elbows, sticking straight up, like someone mimicking a goal post) The freshmen and rookies followed them hesitantly, and Zak smiled a little at their obvious nerves. 

The sets went by quickly enough, and Zak simply watched as they slowly got better. Joseph and Jordan worked them through more sets, and the blob kept slowly turning, then the shape broke right on set 10. Behind him, the line had started to separate, right on the fifty. He struggled to figure out the shape even when he was marching, so at the moment, he just decided to sit down where he was and fill in his dot book, with permission from one of the staff on hand, Oliver.

“Alright everyone, that’s all for today! Please remember to fill out your dot books, and take a picture of your dot card in case you lose it. Have a great day, and see you tomorrow!” Jordan dismissed. Zak stood up, groaning as he did so.

“What are you, an old man?” an obnoxious voice came from behind him, and Zak turned around scowling to face Tommy, with Toby trailing a few steps behind him. “Back aching from sitting on the ground for too long?”

“It actually hurts from fucking your m-” Zak started, but was cut off by a clap to his back, as Schlatt walked inbetween them.

“Ladies, Ladies, you’re both pretty. Now quit being pussys and get off the field,” he said smoothly, before pushing through them and heading off towards the instruments. Zak scowled at the freshman one last time, before swiftly spinning and following the older trumpet.

\---

“Okay, so I’m going to change the rules slightly,” Zak said, standing in front of 3 people; Darryl, Dylan, and Schlatt. Dylan is a younger member of the band, a sophomore pit member. “Since I’m pretty sure you saw during practice that I don’t move at all, I’m going to have you find one of Schlatt’s dots instead.” Darryl’s smug look fell off his face slightly, while Dylan remained passive and Schlatt just looked bored.

“Any questions?” Dylan raised his hand, and started signing when Zak nodded at him. 

“What do I get if I win?” Darryl translated, being the only one who knew sign language. Zak thought for a moment before digging out his wallet from his bag.

“How does $10 sound?” The mute narrowed his eyes at him, before putting up 2 fingers. Zak groaned before grabbing a twenty out of his wallet. “Alright fine. If Bad wins, he gets 20, plus the 5 for the bet. If Mega does, he gets the twenty, and I get 5 from Bad. Deal?” The two nodded, and then Zak motioned for Schlatt to give him his dot card. He scanned it carefully, trying to figure out which dot would be hardest.

“Ok, you’re trying to find set 7, alright? Schlatt, do you have a pic on your phone that one of them can use?” The older nodded, pulling out his phone and pulling up the picture. “The second we hand these off, time starts ticking. And, ok!” he hands the card to Darryl, while Schlatt gives Dylan the phone.

The two pit members immediately start looking over the sheet, scanning for the dot. Dylan starts walking first, hurrying off to the right-hand side of the field. Darryl takes a little longer, but he rushes off after the younger in a second.

“Who do you think will win?” Zak asked Schlatt, crossing his arms and leaning against the trumpet light post. Schlatt shrugged, watching the two scurry around on the field.

“Bad’s too nervous,” he said. “Mega’s quiet, sure, but he’s pretty sharp. Wouldn’t be surprised if he has a friend who’s taught him how to read the card.” Zak nodded along, watching as the pit members slow down, marking out their steps to get the dot right.

Darryl stopped first, shooting his hand into the air right as he fell into a standby position. Dylan was not far behind, his hand raising just a split second after. Zak pushed off the light post, jogging out to the two, Schlatt meandering behind him. As he approached, he noticed their differences. They’re both near the same yardline, just on opposite sides. He had a feeling it would come down to inside/outside the yardline.

“Alright, hand me your cards,” he said, grabbing the paper and the phone, which he handed back to Schlatt as he reached them. “Now, to figure out who won. Schlatt, would you like to do the honors?” The elder nodded, and started reading out the dot.

“Side 2,” he started, pausing in between each instruction to allow Zak to confirm they were right. “5.75 Steps in front of the back hash.” A nod. “3.75 steps… inside 40.” And that was the killer. They were both 3.75 steps, but Dylan was inside, while Darryl was outside.

“Mega wins!” Zak said, clapping a little. “Bad, inside means closer to the 50, so it’s different depending on what side you’re on.” Darryl groaned loudly. Dylan nodded, holding out his hand to Zak, who huffed and handed over the twenty. The younger left swiftly after, as did Schlatt, leaving the last two behind. 

“Darn it! I was so close too…” Darryl grumbled, crossing his arms as Zak laughed. “Don’t laugh at me, you muffinhead!!” 

“I was wrong, maybe I should’ve had you find my dot. You probably would’ve had better luck,” Zak teased, dodging out of the way as Darryl attempted to smack him upside the head. “And apparently your aim is as bad as your sense of direction.” Bad idea.

Darryl started running at him, and luckily, he had the good sense to start running away.

“You still owe me 5 dollars!” Zak shouted over his shoulder, laughing loudly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, let me sincerely apologize for the delay, I'm so very sorry it took so long. I have ADHD, and therefore I hyperfixate on things a lot, which makes it hard to focus on things that don't hold that interest. Thankfully, I managed to recapture that interest, after far too long. 
> 
> Thank you to anyone still around, and be sure to check out @tragedys-fanart on instagram for art!!

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!! This is simply a teaser to gain interest, and see if y'all will actually enjoy our story lol. Also, some of the background characters (ex: the band director, visual guys, etc) will be easter eggs! Can you figure out who they are, lol.
> 
> This work is a tag team between me and my friend Max. Check out their artwork here!: @tragedys_fanart on Instagram
> 
> (Its my birthday today!! yay!!)


End file.
